N7 Month, 2025 - Day 28: Repair
Silly, but I'm still trying to get them all!
He had already asked around Nos Astra, but none of the vendors seemed interested in helping him. So, Shepard had returned to Zakera ward: maybe an older store on the Citadel could help him where the bleeding-edge tech companies on Illium could not.
The local Hahne-Kedar outlet was dark and nearly empty when Shepard entered, a high pitched chime sounding as he hauled the crate he was carrying over the threshold. There was a volus attendant behind the counter, stood up on a box and idly scrolling through his omni-tool.
“Hello, welcome to Hahne-Kedar, can I—woah,” the volus nearly stumbled off his box when Shepard slammed the crate down on the counter. “Um, can I help you, sir?”
“That’s what I’m hoping,” Shepard grinned. He opened the crate and began removing pieces of armor to place before the attendant: a pair of grieves scuffed to hell and back, a chest piece with a hole above the breastbone, a helmet that had certainly seen better days. “I’m hoping to have my old armor repaired.”
The volus breathed softly for a moment, impassive mask scanning over the equipment on the counter. “Is this… an Ursa Mark X?” He asked, finally. Shepard nodded. “We… we stopped manufacturing this six years ago. Where did you even get this?”
“I found it a dead merc’s locker on Kevleton about two years back,” Shepard frowned down at the pile of armor. He muttered, “I figured maybe they don’t make it any more, but I didn’t think it was already off the market when I got it…”
“It’s in terrible condition!” The volus picked up one of the boots which had been badly scorched.
“Was like new when I got it. Since then, though, its been through a lot of fire fights. And hostile environments.” Shepard thought for a moment, “And atmospheric re-entry. Anyhow, can you repair it? The medi-gel distribution system has been all out of whack since that geth surprise attack on Benning. I tried repairing the omni-gel storage system, but to be honest I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“You know… nobody’s used omni-gel for two years?” The volus sounded incredulous. “Modern hardsuits don’t even have a system for omni-gel anymore! It’d be easier to take it out.” He picked up a shin guard, tested its brittleness against the edge of the counter.
“Oh no, that won’t do. I need the omni-gel. Call me old fashioned.”
“The circuitry is destroyed,” the volus was now analyzing the inside of the chest piece. “I don’t know if we can help you here, mister. It would definitely be cheaper to just buy a new hardsuit.”
“No no,” Shepard shook his head. “This has sentimental value. And it’s always fit like a glove. Well, it did before I lost a bunch of weight from being dead for a few years.” The volus’ face mask was impassive. “So, can you gimme a quote?”
“I… I wouldn’t know where to begin! I certainly can’t promise a quote until I know what I’m dealing with, but it’ll be at least a hundred thousand. At least!”
Shepard nodded, brows knit together and jaw firm. “Hmm, yes, that is a lot of money. Say, how about a discount and I do an endorsement for your store?”
“Think of it, someone walks through that door and hears ‘I’m Commander Shepard, and this is my favorite store on the Citadel!’ How about it?”
“Who is Commander Shepard?”
“…you don’t remember Saren? The geth? It was two years ago?”
“I’ve only lived on the Citadel for eight months.”
“Oh.” Shepard blinked down at the volus, whose deep breaths punctuated the awkward silence. “Well, in that case, I guess just contact me once it’s repaired?”
The volus sighed heavily, but finally began collecting the pieces of armor to carry back to the workshop. “I’m asking for a bigger commission on this job, dammit,” he mumbled as Shepard walked away.
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